Relative Human Errors
by Anniexus
Summary: During "Relativity" Seven notices the difference in how people react to her without her implants. With her memories of the events intact, how does the experience affect her? Does the small percentage of change to the timeline that Lt. Ducane mentions have any impact on her and her future?
1. Relativity

Title: "Relativity"  
Author: Annie.  
Rating/Codes: PG, drama/character examination

Background: Season 5. Stardate: 52861.274. Seven is recruited by Captain Braxton of the 29th century timeship _Relativity_ to go back in time and stop an unknown culprit from destroying _Voyager_.

Summary: During "Relativity" Seven notices the difference in how people react to her without her implants. With her memories of the events intact, how does the experience affect her?  
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or these characters nor do I make money off this. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.

Warning: Nothing as of yet.  
Notes: I'm not sure how far I'm going to carry this or if it will eventually deviate from the series timeline. So far I've tried to keep things within the parameters set out by the show. If there are errors that I've missed (besides my atrocious grammar and utter lack of tech knowledge – I can barely work a cell phone), please let me know.

XXX

The transport of Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine back to their proper times went according to plan. The crew of the USS Relativity breathed a sigh of relief that their mission was finally complete. Lt. Ducane set a course for home, receiving word along the way that he could expect a promotion with his return. The news made him smile briefly, but the real satisfaction came from the correction of the timeline. As far as he was aware, everything and everyone was in their proper place and time. What Lt. Ducane didn't take into account, because he didn't know about it, was the effect of some little observations.

XXX

"Say goodnight, Harry," said Tom with a triumphant smack to the Ping-Pong ball. Harry, of course, missed.

The ensuing gloating of Tom over a scowling B'Elanna and gracious Harry Kim was enough to distract the watching crew from Seven of Nine's reaction. She stiffened as though struck and looked around with a slightly dazed expression. Her disorientation lasted only a second or two before she slipped the Borg mask of stoicism back into place. Her reintegration had been smooth if mentally jarring.

"Come on, B'Elanna, you promised me a drink if I won." Tom, ever the charmer, guided B'Elanna to the mess hall's counter where he provided her, Harry and himself with a glass of synthohol. Seven followed only because Harry gestured for her to precede him and because to ignore this obvious expectation would lead to adverse reactions. She did, however, decline the glass of synthohol Tom offered her.

"Congratulations," said B'Elanna grudgingly. She determinedly ignored Seven's presence though they stood fairly close together. Even Tom's happy, smug face was preferable to acknowledging the ex-Borg. It wasn't so much that Seven had done anything to anger B'Elanna. Despite knowing better, the engineer was certain she'd see arrogance and superiority on the drone's face for her and Tom's victory. It never occurred to Chief Engineer Torres that her attempts of self-preservation were counterproductive.

There was a brief instant when B'Elanna's eyes did move and they fixed for that moment on the implant on Seven's face. Seven was already out of her social element and therefore was more careful in her observations. As a result she noticed the turn of B'Elanna's gaze.

"You and Ensign Kim are formidable opponents," said Seven honestly. The kind intent of her remark was unappreciated by B'Elanna. The bitter purse of her lips was enough to make the men shuffle uncomfortably and Tom guide B'Elanna away. Seven was left to wonder yet again why her manners were considered disagreeable.

"So, Seven," said a chipper Harry, "tomorrow Tom is organizing a hoverball championship if you'd like to join. Maybe with you on my team I can win a game for once."

Seven, still abashed by her failed attempt at socializing, dipped her head in acknowledgement of the invitation, but didn't feel up to it. "I'm sorry, but I must decline. I am in need of a longer regeneration session tomorrow."

"Oh, all right then."

It wasn't a complete lie. She truly did feel drained and had been taking shorter regeneration cycles in order to complete some extra work, but the disappointment in Harry's face still chaffed her conscience a bit. Seven sighed. Fixing a timeline was less problematic than social fluency.


	2. Relativity Point 3

Title: "Relativity.3"  
Author: Annie.  
Rating/Codes: PG, drama/character examination

Summary: During "Relativity" Seven notices the difference in how people react to her without her implants. With her memories of the events intact, how does the experience affect her?  
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or these characters nor do I make money off this. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.

Warning: Nothing as of yet.  
Notes: I'm not sure how far I'm going to carry this or if it will eventually deviate from the series timeline. So far I've tried to keep things within the parameters set out by the show. If there are errors that I've missed (besides my atrocious grammar and utter lack of tech knowledge – I can barely work a cell phone), please let me know.

XXXX

Her regeneration cycle complete for another day, Seven stepped out of the alcove and went to the console nearby to choose a clean uniform to replicate. Normally she just selected a random biosuit. This time, however, her eyes lingered on the section of options she habitually avoided. On a whim she opened the folder and viewed a few outfits. Halfway down the list was a crewman's uniform.

As Seven observed the rotating picture of the black and green crewman's uniform, the memories of her assistance to the USS Relativity played through her head. Lt. Ducane had used an unknown device to obscure her Borg implants. The process had been a necessity for her to roam Voyager in the past without being detected. Her mission had been to go back in time to stop an act of sabotage had been completed, but she'd interacted with the crew of Voyager. For more than a few days already the memory of some small things had been begging for her attention.

Though Seven had on more than one occasion claimed physical appearances were irrelevant, she was beginning to doubt. She couldn't ignore either the feeling of elation as she'd run her hand over the smooth skin of her brow or other people's reactions to her. Lt. Ducane had been kind when her implants were visible as well obscured, but she too clearly recalled Lt. Carey's flirting. More than the harmless smiles of Harry Kim, Lt. Carey could have been described as dogged in his advances. Not that Seven wanted to flirt with Lt. Carey, but the difference remained a source of painful confusion. She had been as coldly efficient with the past version of Lt. Carey as she was with everyone in her daily life. Few people were as aggressive towards Seven the way the B'Elanna Torres was, but her general interactions couldn't be called very friendly either.

What was it that made Lt. Carey and the others she'd been forced to acknowledge so much more open and amiable towards her? The only difference had been the visibility of her implants and the crewman's uniform.

A tiny voice offered that perhaps she had acted differently when she knew she looked just like everyone else. It wouldn't have been a very large difference, but something nonetheless.

Seven stared at her reflection in the console. She blinked and so did her reflection. Her eyes moved up to the dull shine of her ocular implant. No matter how she turned her head, it remained a distracting feature. On impulse, Seven loosened her hair from its customary pins and shook her head as the Doctor once had her do. The result was a mass of wavy gold on her shoulders, but it didn't hide what she wanted it to.

She raised her hand to cover the ocular implant, but the only effect was the metal of her hand obscuring the left side of her profile.

"Irrelevant," she muttered to herself. She ordered her biosuit and quickly changed, but no matter how she tried to avoid it, she couldn't stop thinking of Lt. Carey's overtures.

XXX

As it so happened, while Seven took her morning meal Lt. Carey was coming off shift and stopped in the mess hall for something to fill his aching stomach. He was rather surprised when Seven of Nine, who sat alone, noticed him looking around for a seat.

"Lt. Carey, would you care to join me?" Seven asked, indicating the free seats at her table.

"I…" His gaze lit on a free chair with some of his closer acquaintances and he felt himself lighten in relief. "It's okay, Seven, I'll join Joni and Michael."

Lt. Carey went to his friends at that point, but he glanced back at the ex-Borg, the turn of her expression prompting him to look a little longer. There was something almost like disappointment in the turn of her lips, but her eyes were full of thought. Lt. Carey was a friendly man and so felt a little guilt over the encounter, but Seven soon left the mess hall in her usual, stoic fashion and he quickly forgot about it.

Seven began her shift then, her work taking enough of her mental energy that it would be a few weeks before she could meditate on the complexities of humanoid interactions properly.


	3. Survival Instinct

Title: "Survival Instinct"  
Author: Annie.  
Rating/Codes: PG, drama/character examination

Summary: Snippet added to the scene where Chakotay counsels Seven about the fate of the former drones she placed in a collective of three.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or these characters nor do I make money off this. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.

Warning: Nothing as of yet.  
Notes: I'm not sure how far I'm going to carry this or if it will eventually deviate from the series timeline. So far I've tried to keep things within the parameters set out by the show. If there are errors that I've missed (besides my atrocious grammar and utter lack of tech knowledge – I can barely work a cell phone), please let me know.

XXX

Chakotay was walking with the Delaney twins through the overcrowded hallway, on their way for a late lunch when he was surprised by a distraught Seven of Nine. The Delaney twins were deep in their own conversation and so didn't notice the distracted, utterly miserable look on Seven's face as she skirted around them. Chakotay doubted the women even knew Seven had passed as they continued on without a hint of the disturbance Chakotay felt.

"Commander?" Jenny Delaney had noticed Chakotay lagging.

"You two go ahead. I have something I have to do." His stomach could wait. The Delaney sisters shrugged and went on without him, chatting away amiably.

Chakotay forced away any qualms about his actions and followed Seven's path before he had the chance to think better of it. Doubt about his ability to openly converse with Seven slowed his pace. He pushed himself on with a reminder of his duty as a commanding officer and unofficial counsellor. It wasn't that the duty could have gone to someone else or even that he disliked Seven. Rather, Chakotay had so little personal contact with her that he wasn't entirely sure what to say. He didn't even know why she was so upset.

Seven of Nine was found at her Astrometrics station as usual. With the exception of her raising a metal-encased brow at his appearance, she didn't acknowledge how unusual it was for Chakotay to seek her out.

Without a word, Seven handed him her daily report, unaware in her distress that she had just passed him in the hallway.

"Actually," said Chakotay, approaching her post cautiously, "I came to see if you needed some support."

"I can stand on my own." The cool, clipped voice removed any amusement from the quick reply. Chakotay stifled a sigh. She never made things easy. It wasn't as though she was going to start now.

"Moral support." She gave him a decidedly sharp look. "You seemed upset. Would you like to tell me what happened?"

"There is no point. You can do nothing to remedy the situation unless you can reverse assimilation."

"No, I'm afraid that's outside my training, but how about you let me test my skills as a counsellor." He leaned against the main console, more confident that he was where he should be. There was that exasperated, almost irked look again. "Or I can be a sounding board for any dilemmas that might be running through your head."

"For what purpose?" she asked, her tone flat, but not wholly dismissive. That was just the way she spoke and Chakotay knew better than to take offense.

"Sometimes it helps to say things out loud to a sympathetic ear. It relieves tension and allows individuals to change track when the same problem keeps running circles in their head."

"There is nothing…" On any other day Seven would have denied any such problem, but she had found the Doctor's 'cure' of returning the ex-drones to the Collective repugnant and yet she couldn't face the only other option. Condemn the ex-drones to living death, or simply death? What sort of choice was that? Either way she was a murderer.

Chakotay was only a little surprised, but extremely pleased when Seven paused her work and partly faced him.

"You heard about the drones?"

Chakotay nodded.

"In the course of attempting to restore our memories, they suffered neural shock." She visibly steeled herself, fighting the surprisingly strong emotional reactions that came with the guilt of being Borg.

He wasn't sure what convinced her to confide in him and he didn't ask. For almost fifteen minutes, he only listened in growing disquiet and new appreciation.


	4. Judge, Jury, Executioner, Borg

Title: "Judge, Jury, Executioner, Borg"  
Author: Annie.  
Rating/Codes: PG, drama/character examination

Summary: This chapter is set after "Alice" and continues the thread started by the three former drones in "Survival Instinct".  
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or these characters nor do I make money off this. They belong to Paramount Pictures. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.

Warning: Nothing as of yet.  
Notes: Thank you to everyone who reviewed and everyone who read! Regarding the last chapter… for those of you who saw it twice, sorry, I only corrected a grammatical error. It was bugging me like a cotton ball on a hangnail.

For some idea as to the inspiration for this bit and the decision of Marika Willkarah, read June Callwood's "Forgiveness". I think it is a difficult, but important message. So far I've tried to keep things within the parameters set out by the show. If there are errors that I've missed (besides my atrocious grammar and utter lack of tech knowledge – I can barely work a cell phone), please let me know.

XXX

"Ah, Seven, right on time." Without waiting for his patient to pick a seat, the Doctor went to the line of medical tools against the wall to roll the tray of prepared tools toward the bio beds. He was glad for a happier duty than the one most prominent in his mind. Unfortunately, the arrival of Seven coincided too closely with the admittance of his other patient, the cause of his present disquiet. He didn't realize until too late just what Seven would see or how she would feel when she stepped into sickbay.

Marika Willkarah, the former Borg drone who had not long ago been part of a triad collective, lay quietly in the surgical bay. The lights were dimmed so she could rest. She had been transported into sickbay after she began to feel her cortical node shut down to the point of incapacitation. She could not stand and soon she wouldn't be able to breathe.

Seven stood just inside the doors of sickbay, unable to take her eyes from the prone figure. Guilt, a feeling she was becoming more familiar with than any other emotion, paralysed her.

"She came in a few hours ago," said the Doctor. He'd set things up, but turned to see Seven still at the door. He followed her gaze with sympathy for both ex-drones. Though he could never wish for their roles to be reversed, he was struck by the unfairness of the situation. One woman yearned for individuality and had gone to extremes to re-establish it. The reward for her efforts was a death sentence. The other had been cut off so young that she feared humanity, having to be taught everything from eating to etiquette.

"How much time does she have?"

"Not long. I'd say a few days at most."

Seven nodded and went to the bed furthest from Marika so the Doctor could complete her physical. To his credit, he completed the routine exam with minimal chat and more efficiency than usual. He released her with a clean bill of health and a somewhat distracted wish for her to have a pleasant day.

Seven stood, but hesitated to leave.

"I can't claim it was the worst thing I did as a drone," said Seven softly, "but I would trade places with her if I could."

"I know you would." He noted the pained strain around her eyes and clenched jaw. "You can't blame yourself, Seven."

"We were disconnected, free and I…" Seven took a deep breath. "It is entirely my fault. If it were not for my actions we would have been individuals eight years ago and they would not have suffered as they did."

"No, it's unfortunate, but the Collective used you to accomplish its own ends. The programming and instincts influencing you were too strong. You had no more control than any other drone."

"Commander Chakotay said much the same thing."

"Well, he was right. Ms. Willkarah assimilated individuals herself. I'm sure she understands."

Seven nodded. "She said she does."

"Well, there you go." The Doctor smiled.

"But she can't forgive me." She glanced at him, her emotions once more masked. Though the Doctor knew it was there, even he couldn't see the pain of guilt and regret tormenting her. "And I can't blame her for that."

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably, aware he was sinking into murky waters. "Did you ask for forgiveness?"

"No," said Seven firmly. "I don't deserve it." She turned to leave before the Doctor could disagree, but she paused in the doorway.

"Seven?"

"Would you tell me if there is anything she requests that I can provide, anything I can do to make her remaining time more comfortable?"

The Doctor gave a sad little smile, indescribably proud of Seven in that moment. "Of course I will."

XXX

Two days later and Voyager had undergone another skirmish. A territorial species with more firepower than diplomacy had reacted to Captain Janeway's hails and attempts of cultural exploration with a volley of torpedoes and a pursuit. Such occurrences were all too frequent for many of the crew's taste.

The ship was damaged with the most pressing concerns in engineering, which had required some maintenance even prior to the incident. As a result of the attack, engineering was a constant hub of activity, but that wasn't the worst part. Half the regular engineering staff was off duty thanks to a nasty strain of stomach flu.

Add to that the stress of Tom's ill-fated infatuation with a ship named Alice, the Doctor's most recent failed attempts to improve his programming, and her own stressful brush with death and B'Elanna Torres wasn't a happy person. She knew Tom's actions had nothing to do with her, that he had been unable to help himself. It was the only reason she stifled her more temperamental reactions about it. The same could be said about the Doctor and his embarrassing fantasies about her, but the tension within her mind refused to dissipate. Her hurt, conflict, and irritation were pots of water on the verge of boiling. Being part Klingon and looking for a fight to blow off steam, B'Elanna was bound to find one. She hated having her space invaded, which meant all of engineering and anything remotely connected with it. However, with the damage she needed as many extra hands as she could get. The regular crew didn't bother her so much, but there was one presence that set her already frayed nerves on edge.

Seven of Nine was supposed to be working elsewhere at that unfortunate moment. Instead of her assigned post, she stood at a console by the warp core. A repair kit at her side indicated she would most likely be mobile soon. The sight of the drone made B'Elanna's blood heat just those extra two degrees. Before she could calm herself enough to think the situation through, B'Elanna was at Seven's side.

"I told you to look at the phase inducers and the status of the plasma injectors an hour ago. I bet you haven't even checked the Bussard collector calibrations like I asked."

Usually Seven would have replied with cool composure or a confused explanation, but she'd had a rough couple of days as well and was not in the mood. In a reaction she would later research and discover to be termed as seeing red, Seven whipped around and straightened to her full height.

"I may not be a queen," continued B'Elanna, blind to her danger, "but when I give an order I expect it to be followed."

"Your anger is unnecessary," Seven said, her flaring anger smothering B'Elanna's into ashes of surprise at the uncharacteristically impassioned tone. "I have completed every task assigned to me over the past twenty-four hours including sixteen regular duties others were unable or unwilling to complete. The phase inducers are about to be repaired, but I must first ensure I will not be damaged by unusual energy fluctuations I detected. Unless you would like me and other officers burned beyond recognition, then I suggest you allow me to do my job." Seven then showed B'Elanna her profile and continued to work with the stiffness of an iron bar.

The explosion of temper had not gone unnoticed by several other crewmembers. Their curious gazes drifted back to their work when B'Elanna glanced around her, feeling a mix of defensiveness and shame. Through the fading anger B'Elanna knew she owed an apology.

"Listen, Seven, I'm-"

"I know you dislike me, Lieutenant," said Seven with another cold, angry glare, "but I am curious as to the reason. Is it because you don't like who I am, my work, or you do not like that I was part of the Collective?"

Taken off guard by the straightforward and aggressive stance, B'Elanna was at a loss. The truth was that when she truly tried to answer the question for herself she could only think back to her mother's assessment of her temperament. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she'd let her habits take over.

Seeing no response would be forthcoming soon and suspecting she already knew the answer, Seven nodded. "I have tried, but I cannot help being Borg."

B'Elanna wasn't the only one who watched with disturbance as Seven of Nine picked up her kit and disappeared.

XXX

The Jeffries tubes weren't the most comfortable place to work, but Seven was desperate for a distraction and a place to hide so she didn't mind. She had just finished replacing a third gel pack when the Doctor's voice interrupted the encompassing silence.

"Doctor to Seven of Nine." Seven tapped her comm. badge.

"Go ahead."

"Would you come to sickbay please?" He didn't elaborate and Seven didn't need him to. She'd been waiting for his call for what seemed like a lifetime, terrified of what she'd have to do if he requested her presence.

"Is there anything I can bring?"

"Just yourself, Seven."

"I'll be right there."

"Thank you."

Seven sighed and packed up her equipment. Crawling out of the confined space, Seven was struck by an idea. Instead of going straight to sickbay, she made a quick stop to visit Ensign Bronowski and his airponics bay. Marika had spent some of her limited time as an individual enjoying Voyager's gardens. Perhaps there would be something acceptable there.

XXX

"Doctor." Seven entered sickbay and stopped in her tracks, unwilling to disrupt the intimate moment before her.

Marika was awake and speaking softly with Ensign Tabor. They were sombre, but as Seven watched they both smiled at each other. Seven assumed they were discussing Bajoran customs as there was a ceremonial lamp, a duranja, on a table by the bed. It was a family heirloom that belonged to Tabor.

The Doctor approached, noting the colourful flora in Seven's hand. She dipped her head in embarrassment.

"I understand it is customary to bring flowers for those you wish well."

"It is and they're lovely," he assured her.

Just then Ensign Tabor patted Marika's hand and made his way to the door. He gave the Doctor and Seven a kind smile and left sickbay.

"Seven." The weak call came from the surgical bay. It made Seven's stomach clench.

With an encouraging nod from the Doctor, Seven approached the dying woman with trepidation and no small amount of sadness.

"I was told you enjoy lilacs," said Seven as she placed the bouquet next to the duranja.

Marika nodded. "I do. Thank you." She breathed in deep, smiling as the sweet and spicy combination unique to the rare flora permeated the sterile environment of sickbay.

"I assume you asked to see me." Marika gave a small nod, her eyes flickering away from Seven. "I can never make it up to you for what I've done, but I am sorry."

The brown eyes finally rose to Seven's face, full of sudden flame. "Aren't you going to beg for my forgiveness, tell me it wasn't your fault?"

"No, it was my fault. I wish very much to undo or at least atone for the atrocities I committed as a drone, but both desires are impossible." She forced herself to hold Marika's hostile gaze. This was her penance, to see the results of her actions. "I do not expect nor wish for your forgiveness because I do not deserve it."

"The Doctor told me you felt that way. He convinced me to talk to you before…" Her eyes drifted to the duranja and tears began to form.

"If you wish to vent your anger with me, I will not blame you."

"A month doesn't seem very long, but I thought over a lot of things." She had looked away, at the Bajoran lilacs again as her voice softened in pensiveness. "I am grateful for Voyager. It's like a little piece of home in a lonely sea."

Seven nodded. This sentiment was easy for her to understand. "I feel the same way."

"Despite the harshness of the Delta Quadrant, it's peaceful here. I didn't think about assimilation or being so far from Bajor. I didn't even think about you much." Her dark eyes reluctantly met Seven's again. "I'm not happy about it, but this situation is what it is and nothing we do can change that. I might not have thought about you, but I spent a lot of time hating you."

"It is natural."

"But my anger wasn't useful. It didn't fix anything and it didn't affect how you feel about the situation." Marika gazed long and steadily at Seven. "It's one thing to hold a grudge against someone who doesn't care what they've done and I wonder if even that sort of anger does anything but harm."

Seven was confused. She tilted her head as though the angle would help her understand. "Law and social order are necessary for functionality."

"Yes, but I'm not talking about law. I'm talking about conscience. For all they've done, do you hate the Borg?"

Once again Seven had to think a moment. "No, I fear them and pity the individuals afflicted."

"I do too… now." Marika breathed deep, seeking strength for what was the least natural of actions. "Then I forgive you."

Try as she might, Seven couldn't completely stop her reaction from showing. Her whole body stopped a moment and she felt, for the tiniest of moments, a relief.

"I forgive you on one condition."

XXX

Borg do not cry. Seven of Nine could not.

Seven did not permit herself to vent her sorrow. She didn't even take a break after watching Marika die, the Doctor, Crewman Tal Celes, Ensign Tabor, and herself as the young woman's parting company. While the two Bajoran friends wept over the woman whose company they'd come to enjoy, Seven escaped the Doctor's concerned attempt at consolation and fled to the isolated safety of her work.

Chakotay found her in the lower decks, checking circuitry and overhauling what appeared to be half the ship. He eyed the mess with a mix of amusement and empathy.

"Commander." Seven hardly spared him a glance. He knew better than to take it personally so he curled up as comfortably as possible on the metal grating.

"B'Elanna said you were a little on edge," he said. "How are you?"

"Did you really leave the bridge for the bowels of the ship because Lt. Torres and I don't get along?" She snapped a circuit back into place with more force than was necessary. "Or did the Captain send you down here to ensure I would not cause another disturbance?"

"I think B'Elanna and her sharp tongue are rubbing off on you." There wasn't even the faintest twitch of her lips. Chakotay sighed. "The Captain doesn't know about what happened in engineering, but the Doctor did voice some concerns."

Seven glanced at him with a raised brow, wondering why Janeway hadn't called her for a chat. Commander Chakotay had sought her out as a friendly ear on an increasingly frequent basis within the last month, but it was still more common for Janeway to offer consultation. Seven was surprised to find that she was grateful for the Commander's calming presence this time. She was uncertain why, but she found him easy to talk to. Not that she was in the mood to reveal her emotions to anyone without a fight.

"Did you recommend yourself for this arduous task then, Commander?"

Chakotay gave a small chuckle. "Talking with you, unless it involves temporal mechanics, is hardly arduous, Seven." He gave her a wee smile. "I volunteered because you've gone through a stressful time and because I care."

"Your concern is unnecessary. I am Borg." Seven turned away from him under the pretense of gathering her tools to change locations. Chakotay, having a while ago come to realize there was more to the ex-Borg than met the eye and that her bark was much worse than her bite, touched her wrist. She paused.

"You insist this is your fault as though you would repeat your actions despite the harmful consequences, but that isn't the case. You had no control." She remained silent, unmoved. "Do you blame your parents then, or hate the drones that assimilated your family?" Chakotay took his hand away as she slowly turned back to meet his gaze. He was touched and saddened to see her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

"No, the drones were forced against their will and my parents did their best to avoid assimilation while conducting their research."

"You give them leniency, but why not yourself? The Doctor said Marika forgave you and so did the others."

"Their forgiveness is…" She couldn't say it and by the knowing look in Commander Chakotay's warm eyes as he witnessed her realization of this, he agreed with her. Her conscience of the misdeed was a ward against such a thing happening again, but the absolving of her guilt from her victim's eyes was a balm to her soul she couldn't deny. There would always be the regret, but perhaps the sting of it could lessen.

"They and many others have looked beyond your Borg mask because they know it's not really who you are," Chakotay continued. "Your actions during those eighteen years weren't yours to control. That you can feel guilt for something you had no ability to resist is proof enough that there is more humanity behind that Borg layer than you're willing to admit to. You just need to lower your shields and let others see it once in a while."

"B'Elanna-"

"Trust me, it has very little to do with you other than you're an accessible target. I've been on the wrong side of her temper a few times myself. Besides, you've never let her get to you before. Why pick now?"

Seven remained silent. There were some things she could not share with the Commander and some things she didn't know how to voice even to herself. Why did she keep dwelling on the memory of her wholly human reflection? Why, despite the dangerous circumstances while assisting Lt. Ducane, had she felt an ease among the Starfleet officers she didn't often feel during the most relaxing moments on Voyager?

Increasingly Seven had felt the tension between what felt like two halves of herself and it left her at a loss. Was she Borg or human? Could she fully be either and did she want to be? There didn't seem a way to be an appropriate mixture of both. They were two contrary identities, their very natures unable to exist together without destruction and pain.

"She wanted to apologize to you," said Chakotay, unaware of the questions broiling inside Seven. "I said I would pass on the message."

"Her apology is unnecessary." It was true. Her anger had died the second she received the Doctor's message.

"Somehow I knew you'd say that. Just talk to her when you have a chance, would you? It's not an order, but I think it would do you both some good."

"I will if you think it would be appropriate." Chakotay tilted his lips up and moved to leave, recognizing the time to leave while he was ahead. He hesitated a moment when she spoke again, her softer tone catching his attention. "Thank you, Commander. I appreciate your concern."

"I'm always here to listen, Seven, all you have to do is ask." And with that, Commander Chakotay vacated the enclosed space, leaving Seven to her thoughts.

She could ask. Seven knew she only needed to voice some of her thoughts with Captain Janeway about her experience on the USS Relativity and she would be provided with well-meaning attention.

The problem was Seven could not fathom allowing any of the crew to witness the inner workings of her mind. She would never be called silly, or outgoing, or any of the terms she would classify as conducive to friendly relationships. By nature or by Borg design, she had developed a reserved temperament on top of an appreciation for the rigidity of science and hard work. If she knew how to examine herself deeper, she would have realized why she felt this way. Rejection and the fear of it was enough for B'Elanna to build the walls of bitterness and anger around herself. It was also enough reason for Seven to cling to her Borg ideals long after she no longer believed in them. All she knew was that instinct, indescribable and undeniable instinct, told her to keep her insecurities wholly to herself.

XXX

Seven strode through the corridors with her usual outward confidence and stopped just outside holodeck one. The room was available, most likely because it was 0200hours. Seven input a few commanded into the interface by the door and stepped inside. She viewed the uninspiring mesh of holo-emitters with a mix of trepidation and purpose.

"Computer, begin Social Lesson Seven of Nine Zero One." A recreation of Voyager's cargo bay appeared, the Borg alcoves glowing green in the dim light. Marika Willkarah stood in front of them, looking up with a wise glint in her brown eyes.

"It still angers me." Marika tilted her head to look at Seven, who raised a brow in question. "The Borg technology," she answered, turning back to the focus of her speech. "Even though I was Borg and I know it's just inanimate technology, I still hate it. I hate what it represents."

"I suspect that is why I have difficulty integrating with the crew here," confessed Seven. "I know what they think of the Borg, what they must think of me no matter how removed from the Collective I become."

"So you push them away before they can push you?"

"You understand." It wasn't a surprise revelation, but hearing it out loud made it seem less problematic. Marika sighed.

"I was that sort of teenager, convinced the universe was against me. I suspect it's a more common affliction than we'll admit to."

"Perhaps."

"Why are we here, Seven?" The Bajoran turned fully to face Seven. She didn't mean the question in the grand sense humans tended to ask when close to death. Rather, she meant it literally. "Why discuss this with the hologram of a dead acquaintance? Surely Captain Janeway or your friends would be better to help you."

"I don't doubt they would be kind, but I find the idea of discussing this with them daunting."

"I see. Well, then you'd better ask what it was you came here for." Marika clasped her hands. Calmness and peace surrounded her like a shroud. Seven shifted uncomfortably.

"Before you died, you told me that to make amends I had to live for you and the other individuals I helped destroy. I understand what you meant, but I am uncertain how to proceed. I am adapting to humanity as best I can, but it is insufficient. How do I fulfill your wishes if my capabilities are insufficient?"

"I don't think you do understand. Your friends still call you by your Borg designation. You spend more time in silence than you do with the people who would be your friends and mentors. Instead of exploring yourself you hang on to your Borg identity and routines like a lifeline."

"I spend a sufficient amount of time with the crew, but I have duties I must perform as well."

"Sufficient time?" Marika gave a harsh laugh and gestured around them. "What is this then? Isn't there a real Voyager on which you can stand? Don't you have people living around you to speak with? Everything you do is done so that you can restrain yourself and the impact you make on the lives around you."

"I spend my time working so this crew can return home," said Seven in rising defensiveness. "Astrometrics and my other work will help these people survive and accomplish their greatest desire. How is that restraining my impact?"

"What about your personal mark? When you are dead, will they remember you or will they just fill your station and continue on, your absence nothing more than a dark, little hole in their memories? The Collective will not keep your soul and these people cannot hold your Borg heartlessness."

"Computer, end program." Seven took several deep breaths, trying to calm her shaking limbs and push back her conflict. It worked enough for her to walk the halls back to her cargo bay. Once there she deleted the simulation.


	5. Musings and Deeper Yearnings

Title: "Musings and Deeper Yearnings"  
Author: Annie.  
Email: anniexus  
Rating/Codes: PG, drama/character examination

Background: Season 5. Stardate: 52861.274. Seven is recruited by Captain Braxton of the 29th century timeship _Relativity_ to go back in time and stop an unknown culprit from destroying _Voyager_. They are successful and both Janeway and Seven are returned to the timeline with their memories and a very minor variation in the timeline.

Summary: An examination of how that variation, the experience of looking human, and access to a holodeck help shape Seven and her relationships.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or these characters nor do I make money off this. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.

Warning: Nothing as of yet.  
Notes: I'm not sure how far I'm going to carry this or if it will eventually deviate from the series timeline. So far I've tried to keep things within the parameters set out by the show. If there are errors that I've missed (besides my atrocious grammar and utter lack of tech knowledge – I can barely work a cell phone), please let me know.

XXX

For a brief moment Seven felt elation as a sunny, forest setting surrounded her disembodied consciousness. She looked around for the familiar, handsome face of Axum. The feeling quickly faded. Unimatrix Zero had been destroyed. Even in her regeneration cycle she couldn't forget that fact.

Not completely unused to dreaming at this point in her human life, Seven relaxed into the peace of her surroundings. For a while she was content to walk among the trees and undergrowth. There were no animals and no other people to disturb the quiet. Though Seven usually found such absolute isolation troublesome, the beauty of the forest and the knowledge that it would not last forever prevented any anxiety she would have felt.

The croaking of a raven echoed through the trees, making Seven pause and look around for the creature. A shudder rippled across her shoulders as she remembered the last time she'd dreamed of the bird. There was a distinct lack of fear in her though. The calmness of the dream remained even when she spotted the enormous wingspan of black shining in the speckled sunlight. The bird glided through the trees, cawing every now and again until it perched on a rock in front of Seven of Nine. They peered at each other with mutual curiosity.

"Regeneration cycle complete," intoned the computer. The dream stopped. There was no gradual waking with regeneration. Seven's eyes opened, consciousness back to the stark reality of the cargo bay. Without batting an eyelash, she stepped from her alcove and stood in front of the four children.

Mezoti woke first and went to Seven's side. Azan and Rebi were next. Seven smiled as they silently joined Mezoti. She had quickly learned to tell when the twins were having silent discussions and it was never good. For Borg at any stage of assimilation, the twin boys had a talent for getting into trouble. At least when they spoke aloud she could prepare for disaster.

Icheb was visibly – by Borg standards anyway – upset at being the last to come to consciousness a full fifteen minutes after Seven. He tilted his head at her smirk, aware that his later start was his own fault as he'd stayed up later to finish a project. With a shorter regeneration cycle this wouldn't have been a problem, but Seven insisted on a full cycle for the children each night. Mezoti was obedient in this at least, but Remi and Azan frequently had to be chased down at bedtime. Seven blamed her own accommodation for fun. The boys had taken it as licence to run wild when the mood gripped them. Tom and Harry had made some fun of her the first time they'd seen her hunting the twins through the corridors. She'd simply sighed, keeping her own amusement hidden. The children certainly had brought chaos to her daily life, but she'd found their type of chaos pleasing instead of destructive as she'd originally thought.

They left the cargo bay as a group, Mezoti reaching up to hold Seven's hand. The feel of the smaller appendage in hers warmed Seven's heart and though she didn't realize any change in herself, the crew they passed on the way to the mess hall smiled a little easier and a little wider at the group of former Borg.

The morning crowd wasn't large so the Borg were assured a table to themselves. Mezoti, seeming to desire the assurance of physical contact that morning, accompanied Seven to the counter, her hand still grasping Seven's.

"Good morning," Neelix greeted them enthusiastically. "You're just in time for omelettes."

Seven eyed the ingredients he'd prepared and found them appropriate. For once there were no creative additions and everything appeared nutritious. "Thank you. I am sure the children will enjoy it."

Neelix beamed at the compliment and began cracking eggs the size of his fist into a bowl. "So, what's on the agenda for today? Naomi said something about the holodeck." He eyed her teasingly. "That doesn't sound like your usual teaching method."

"No, it's not, but it may prove beneficial. Commander Chakotay and Ensign Kim suggested a music lesson to broaden the children's education."

"I see. Well, I think that's a wonderful idea." Neelix mixed in the chopped vegetables. "I seem to recall you're quite musically inclined as well, Seven."

"I will not be performing."

"Hmm, well, we'll see. I'm surprised you haven't included it in their lessons already though."

"We had more important things to learn," said Mezoti seriously. "Music is irrelevant."

"Irrelevant?" Neelix and Seven looked at each other with amusement. "I beg to differ. Almost every culture attempts to define itself by its arts. I know you like art." He had several paintings the children did pinned to the back wall of his kitchen.

"I do," she conceded. "But the Collective contained the knowledge of millions of species, maintaining only relevant data. Art was deemed irrelevant."

"But that was the Collective and this is Voyager."

"It still serves no useful purpose." Mezoti said it with authority, but she looked up to Seven as though hoping to be contradicted. She wasn't disappointed.

"On the contrary," said Seven. "Individuals require recreational activities to bond with peers and relax so they can function more efficiently."

"There, you see," said Neelix with a grin. "You can't argue with that." More people filtered in, drawing Neelix's attention back to his work. "I'll bring breakfast over when it's ready, Seven."

Nodding once, Seven took Mezoti back to their table where an unexpected person had joined them.

"Good morning, Seven," said Chakotay. She nodded and took her seat across from him, irrationally unsettled by his presence though she didn't know why. She didn't have much time to dwell on her feelings however; as usual, the children kept her on her toes.

Icheb had provided everyone with a drink and was making plans for the next afternoon with the twins. Icheb calmly argued for them to continue studying while Rebi and Azan wanted to join Naomi on the holodeck.

"Naomi has homework," said Icheb. "She will not have time to show you the program you wish."

Rebi and Azan shared a look that Seven was immediately wary of.

"Out loud," she commanded. They might like to test her patience during fun and games, but they knew better than to ignore the warning of that tone. Chakotay looked between the boys and Seven, somewhat confused.

Rebi spoke first. "We can modify the Doctor's program so he forgets Naomi has an assignment."

"We wouldn't damage him," said Azan.

"You will not modify the Doctor." Her initial desire to laugh was smothered, but Seven's amusement wasn't completely hidden. She caught Commander Chakotay's smirk and they both had to look away. "If Naomi will permit it, perhaps you can assist her work so that she will be available sooner."

Rebi and Azan looked at each other, weighing their options. Rebi met Seven's gaze. "Acceptable."

Neelix dropped off their breakfast then, including a plate for the Commander, but moved on quickly as the crowd was beginning to thicken. The children ate calmly, the needs of their growing bodies stifling any mischief they might have continued to think up.

Seven grew curious. "What program did you want to play with Naomi?"

"It is a recreation of an El-Aurian fairy tale I found," said Mezoti. Her monotone voice made it difficult to tell if she was interested in the game or not. Her question, however, gave Seven some idea. "Would you play it with us?"

The idea of playing a child's game on the holodeck held little appeal. Tom Paris' unusual tastes were nothing but exasperating to her and that was all she'd attempted beyond her social lessons. Still, Seven found it difficult to deny the children the simple request. Briefly she wondered if she was becoming easy to manipulate, having noticed a similar effect with Naomi.

"I have work to complete." Mezoti and the twins' faces fell slightly. "However, I will attempt to join you after my shift."

Yes, she was definitely becoming easier to manipulate.

"Commander, would you like to play too?" Rebi turned innocently to Chakotay, whose smile grew.

"I'm sorry, but I'll be working all day and then the Captain and I are having dinner."

Was it Seven's imagination, or did the Commander shift uncomfortably as he admitted to the last bit? She was certain he wasn't meeting his eyes, but she knew enough of polite conversation to not mention it.

XXX

"I am impressed, Commander." Seven, Commander Chakotay and Ensign Kim looked around the simulation of a theatre with appreciation. The acoustics were perfect thanks to the impeccably designed curve of the stage. Not that the acoustics really mattered. The children had taken up various instruments and immediately begun playing. Unfortunately the fact that they neither knew how to read sheet music nor how to play their instruments didn't deter them from blasting on the loudest instruments they could find. Icheb alone stood over at a bookcase, his head tilted as he compared the sheet music to his preliminary research.

"Thank you, but Harry deserves the majority of the credit." Chakotay clapped a blushing Harry on the back.

"Just don't tell the Doctor we did this," said Harry with a grimace that was only half joking. "For efficiency's sake we sort of neglected to get his input."

Seven couldn't prevent the edges of her lips from lifting a little as she gave the men a nod.

There were a few minutes while the adults watched the children play. Harry laughed as Mezoti picked up and grew obviously confused by the French horn. Seven, who had better hearing than the others, grew tired of the chaos first.

"Computer, activate music teacher program," said Seven.

A Ktarian female appeared and strode forward to the gang of children. She clapped her hands and boomed in a surprisingly commanding voice to gain their attention. The children, at least curious about this newcomer, stopped and regarded her with attentiveness.

"Well, I have to get back to the bridge," said Harry. He eyed the children. "Good luck."

Chuckling, Chakotay gestured for Seven to take a seat in the audience. Together they watched the children slowly begin to understand how each instrument worked and then they moved on to scales.

"Did you ever have music lessons?" Chakotay asked.

Seven shook her head. "If I did, I don't remember it."

"Assimilation blocks a lot of those memories, doesn't it?" he asked quietly, uncertain if he should continue this line of conversation or just apologize and turn to lighter subjects.

"Yes, it does. I suspect they are often the most important memories for forming individuality."

"I'm sorry." Seven turned her blue eyes to him, a gentleness Chakotay had rarely seen softening her face. He couldn't tell if it was a natural and human grief for things that never were or appreciation for his sentiment, but he wanted to believe it was a mixture of both.

"So am I."

There was a comfortable silence as they both turned back to watch the music lesson.

"It's not too late, you know."

"I'm fairly certain I'm no longer considered a child."

He laughed at that. "Absolutely not, but I meant you can still experience some of the things you missed." He nodded to the Ktarian teacher. "Maybe you can take lessons with the kids." He smiled, hoping she would acquiesce. "Or you can take up singing again."

"I'm afraid I don't understand this crew's fascination with coercing me to sing."

"I've been told you sing beautifully," said Chakotay with a smile. "What more reason do we need?"

"Luckily in this instance resistance is not futile."

Chakotay laughed out loud, causing Seven to give a brief but earnest smile in response. "I hope I'll get to hear you sing one day."

Feeling her heart give an unusual thump, Seven blushed. "Perhaps you will."

XXX

As promised Seven arrived on the holodeck after her shift. She entered the already running game without any idea what awaited her. The grey walls were transformed into a vibrant rainforest in sparkling daylight. Peeking through small holes in the canopy was blue sky.

The girls spotted Seven and rushed to her side, Neelix and Icheb jogging to keep up. Dodging around trees behind them were Rebi and Azan. While the girls were in puffy dresses, the twins had been transformed with rags and minor prosthetics to resemble what the children assumed goblins looked like. Icheb and Neelix wore simple, cotton pants and shirts with belts and swords.

"Seven, do you want to be a fairy like us or a goblin like Azan and Rebi?" asked Naomi.

"I do not know the significance of either," Seven admitted.

"You two go on and I'll explain," said Neelix. As much fun as he was having, it was becoming more difficult to keep up with the youngsters. He and Seven watched the girls skip off to chase away the twins.

"They seem… enthusiastic," Seven observed.

"Oh, yes, they have enjoyed the program. I, however, could use a break. I must be getting old." He sighed. "I don't remember it being this difficult to chase after Naomi."

"Rebi and Azan require more fortitude than the others," Seven said. She felt a tiny smile grace her lips as they watched the children chase each other. The twins had quickly realized Icheb's lack of enthusiasm made him the weakest link in the game and were attempting to encircle him.

"I'm quite done in for one night to tell you the truth." He glanced at Seven. "They tell me you've played similar games with them before. You must be good. They were really excited about your participation tonight."

"Enhanced Borg strength does have its occasional advantages. I am afraid the point of it still eludes me, however," Seven admitted. She looked to Mezoti, who was smiling and laughing. The difference from the girl's usual mannerisms elicited Seven's curiosity. Neelix noticed and his own knowing smile grew wider.

"The point, Seven, is to drop your usual habits and perceptions for a little bit and pick up new ones. It's fun, teaches us to see things in different ways, and we get to explore new aspects of ourselves we wouldn't otherwise be able to do."

"A cultural study."

"Yes, and more. Naomi once showed me a Flotter program that encouraged her to learn science, social expectations, and problem solving. It's just another tool for learning about life in general."

"And the need for this?" She indicated Neelix's costume.

"They help players get into the mood of the story and having an assigned personality lets them open up a bit more." He nodded to Mezoti and one of the twins sneaking up on Icheb from behind a tree, rope in hand. "When else would you see Azan and Mezoti act like that?"

"That is Rebi," Seven corrected.

"Oh."

"But I see your point."

"You do?"

"Though I'm not sure I approve of it as a habitual pastime for the children."

Neelix shook his head. "No, of course not." A commotion drew their attention back to the game. "Looks like we're up, Ms. Fairy." He laughed as Seven rolled her eyes.

XXX

It was a rare evening when all the children behaved, but their utter exhaustion ensured they were led to their alcoves without issue. Even Icheb didn't put up a fight with his usual request to continue working or studying.

"Goodnight, Icheb."

"Goodnight, Seven." The computer whirred and clicked as the young man fell into the oblivion of regeneration.

Rebi and Azan surprised Seven with a brief embrace, smiling in happy exhaustion as they moved to their own units.

"Thank you for playing with us." Mezoti's expression was serious as ever, but it softened a bit as she hugged Seven's waist and quickly stepped into her alcove. The tender gesture from the three youngsters gave Seven the same peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach she felt when she could do something to make Naomi happy.

"You are welcome." Her tone softened further. "Goodnight, Mezoti."

XXX

The children were well set in their regeneration cycles so Seven felt no guilt leaving them alone. However, when her destination stood before her she was at a loss. The holodeck could be programmed to look like anything, but she wasn't sure what she wanted to see.

"Computer, run music program Kim01." The auditorium from the previous day appeared, empty except for the myriad of instruments waiting to be played. Seven stared at them and then at the spot where she and Commander Chakotay had sat. The memory of him laughing and their comfortable conversation afterward made her feel peculiar, but she couldn't put a name to it. It was pleasant, she thought, but the word seemed insufficient and she became confused as to why she had enjoyed the program so much. Now that it was empty the allure was gone.

Wandering to the front, Seven tried to understand herself, but no answers were forthcoming and she sat with a sigh on the piano bench. Just to hear something other than silence she touched a key. It sounded in perfect pitch, but too loud for the open and empty room.

She stood, feeling foolish and ready to leave, but the pre-selected music sheet caught her eye and she wondered at the inspiration of it.

'"L'amour Est Bleu.'"

The room was too uncomfortable, too exposed and as though the wide walls were engulfing her smaller form in a net that was quickly becoming oppressive.

"Computer… Display a dense, tropical forest." There was a beep and then the mesh of metal, wood and fabric shifted to mirror her request. It looked like any generic forest, but not the one she suddenly longed to see.

"Computer, add more broad-leafed foliage and rhododendrons and lower temperature by five degrees." The scene changed accordingly and as she walked through, Seven continued to make changes until something more similar to Unimatrix Zero lay spread out before her, including a humanoid male with cranial ridges and kind, but vacant eyes. It was Axum's species and looked very similar to him, but it wasn't. The computer had no reference for his features or his persona so Seven had to mould him with her memory and verbal commands until a semblance of him stood before her.

Seven stood back from her creation and felt pride for a minute before realization and the accompanying disappointment made her shoulders lower.

He stood as still as the trees, staring into nothing with no more semblance of personality than a rock. This was where Seven had to stop. What could she do?

How could she expect the computer to know what he acted like when she had no idea?

The man's blank stare became too much.

"Computer, end program."

"Would you like to save before exiting?" asked the monotone computer.

"No, delete program."

The walls returned to gray metalwork and Seven left, feeling more confused and empty than when she came in.

Seven wasn't out of the holodeck more than a few minutes when she heard footsteps approaching ahead of her.

"Burning the midnight oil?" Chakotay's voice was a gentle mix of mild curiosity and chastisement. He hoped for a sparky retort or even enough of an answer that he could stop and talk. The more time he spoke with Seven the more he found he enjoyed her company, a turn that surprised him as much as it made him want to seek her out.

Seven merely nodded and continued on her way, leaving Chakotay to sigh without knowing why.


	6. Fearful Dreamer

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or these characters nor do I make money off this. I just borrow them for my own enjoyment.

Warning: Nothing as of yet.  
Notes: If there are errors that I've missed (besides my atrocious grammar and utter lack of tech knowledge – I can barely work a cell phone), please let me know.

XXX

With the three younger children gone and her medical condition preventing her from occupying her regular role in Astrometrics, the silence of loneliness and the boredom of uselessness were more painful than could be put into words. It wasn't often that Seven thought about her time as a Borg and simply hated them, but she could feel the anger and helplessness building with every passing moment in which she had to sit in sickbay.

It was maddening. Luckily, there was something Seven could do.

The Doctor, completing a diagnostic of the biobeds, didn't notice Seven exit the surgical bay. He did, however, notice when she began typing commands into the computer.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

"Working."

"I don't think so."

"Seven, we talked about this."

"And I will not sit idle anymore." She faced the frustrated Doctor. "Sitting here is not helping. I am returning to work."

The Doctor lost his temper then and advanced at the same time Seven issued a command to the computer.

XXX

B'Elanna was on her way to engineering, her mind occupied with the growing list of tasks to be done. She didn't even notice Chakotay going in the opposite direction until he addressed her.

"Morning B'Elanna."

"Morning."

"Have you seen Seven?"

"No." B'Elanna was too surprised by the question to question the degree of concern in Chakotay's voice and in the strain on his face. "Why…"

"She's hiding and doing a good job of it." Chakotay ran a stressed hand through his hair. It wasn't a big ship, but Seven was masking her bio signature from internal sensors so she could be hiding anywhere. Chakotay didn't need to explain what would happen if her condition took a change for the worse and there was no way to locate her. "I didn't want to alert all of Voyager, but if you see her, please let me know. The Doctor is on the verge of organizing an official search party."

B'Elanna bobbed her head. "Are you going to continue looking then?"

"No, I have to get back to the bridge. Call me if you see her?"

"I will," she said, amused that he would ask twice. When Chakotay hurried away his large frame was stiff with a tension that made B'Elanna begin to muse. Though she didn't expect to find Seven, she was not particularly surprised when she saw the familiar glimmer of gold hair behind a console in engineering.

XXX

Seven observed Icheb's peaceful, sleeping face a moment. It was incredible to her that he had done so much to save her life. His sacrifice and acceptance of personal risk was no small matter and no small demonstration of true affection. Seven would never forget it.

She left him in the Doctor's capable hands for one more day of rest and healing and returned to her own, colder and even more sterile cargo bay.

Without the children and even their minimalist individuality to lend animation and softness to the harsh ambiance, the cargo bay seemed more depressingly oppressive and utilitarian than before. Seven looked around and felt the weight of the regeneration units, the loneliness from being relegated to a storage area reserved for spare parts and the occasional vegetable. It wasn't anyone's fault or even a deliberate insult since it was the location in which the Borg set up the units and the place she had been content to stay for several years. There had been nothing wrong with the cargo bay before. However, something about the place had changed. Or, rather, something within Seven had changed, and she now saw the space very differently.

The Borg had taken away the lives of billions of individuals. What was worse, as she looked around the cargo bay, was how, even after being freed, the drones such as her were unable to escape their assimilation. Their physiology marked them forever as drones and the psychological impact of malfunctioning parts and having to use a massive regeneration unit ensured drones like her and Icheb would be constantly reminded of what they were.

The green light cast shadows that alternately frightened and comforted her, reminding her of assimilation and of unity within a larger whole at the same time. She wished Icheb were there. She wished for anyone to be there.

As though to grant her wish, the doors to the cargo bay opened to reveal Commander Chakotay. He stepped forward, his eyes falling on Seven as he smiled.

It wasn't anything fantastic, nor even Commander Chakotay's widest or most charming smile, but the timing of it and the genuine happiness to see her struck Seven to the quick and she didn't feel entrapped anymore. She stood frozen as Chakotay approached, his friendly smile lighting up his tired face.

"Commander," Seven greeted, not forgetting her manners despite how off balance she felt.

"Seven. How is Icheb doing?"

"The Doctor wanted to keep him in sickbay for another night," she said. Chakotay nodded, the youth's absence explained.

"But he's doing well?"

"Yes," said Seven, "he will adapt and luckily Icheb possesses a stubborn constitution." Chakotay laughed, prompting Seven to give a soft smile.

"That's good to hear. Maybe if he's feeling up to it tomorrow you and Icheb can join me for breakfast." Seven's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, actually there's a few of us. It's not quite a celebration, just something to show how glad we all are that you and Icheb are feeling better."

"I appreciate it, Commander."

"You'll come then?"

"I will meet Icheb in sickbay and we'll join you at 0700 hours if that is acceptable."

"Perfect." Chakotay glanced at the glowing Borg unit closest to them. "I guess I should let you regenerate, and I promised to meet the Captain." Though tempted to grimace at the idea of another burned or otherwise ruined meal while they discussed ship's business, Chakotay valiantly fought the urge. Food, however, was the furthest thing from Seven's mind in that moment.

"You spend a lot of personal time with the Captain, do you not?"

"Yes," Chakotay answered slowly, surprised, "I suppose so." They did share a number of meals together and the occasional holodeck program when he could convince her to take a break. He felt obligated to explain. "A lot of it has to do with keeping up a good working relationship though."

"Even so… does it help prevent loneliness?" It took all her Borg bluntness to ask without stuttering or blushing, but she managed to do it.

Truly surprised now, Chakotay answered as honestly as he could because he felt she deserved to know the truth and because he had a sinking feeling she was at least partly assuming that his relationship with Janeway was romantic. "No, not entirely. Captain Janeway and I get along quite well and I think I would count her as a friend, but not all relationships are equal. Friends, especially close ones like B'Elanna help more."

"I see." A tiny frown creased her features as she thought over his reply. Chakotay desperately wanted to ask if she felt lonely, but thought it might be overstepping an unspoken boundary. To stop himself from giving in to temptation, he excused himself.

"I should go before the Captain calls security to come find me."

Disappointed to be left alone after so short a visit, Seven nevertheless could present nothing to keep him there. She bobbed her head. "Goodnight, Commander."

"Goodnight, Seven." Chakotay flashed her a final smile and left. She watched him go with regret. It was a relief to have time to rest, but the feeling of isolation and loneliness returned as soon as Chakotay turned his back.

Seven moved to her regeneration unit, hoping for oblivion, but she paused halfway through programming the cycle.

The solution to her loneliness churned in her mind a moment or two before she dismissed it. Spending more time with the crew was unlikely to produce a different result than it had for the past few years. She knew she lacked the social finesse to create a friendship like the one Tom and Harry shared or Chakotay and B'Elanna. As much as she counted the Doctor a friend, there was more a mentorship between them than anything and she wasn't oblivious to the looks he sometimes gave her. She couldn't become any closer to him than she already was without encouraging his romantic ideas. As much as she admired him, she wasn't interested romantically.

What she needed was a way to connect with the people she already knew, with those who already saw her as a friend. Just as with the broader social skills, Seven needed to learn how to create closer bonds. For that, she would need practice. For a minute she considered running the Doctor's social lessons again, but she had never felt comfortable in them.

Perhaps it would help to recreate something she knew put her at ease. Seven then turned to the room's computer console.

With hesitant strokes, she began the process of creating her own holodeck program.

XXX

"Is everything all right?"

"Pardon?" Seven gave a tiny start at the quiet question and gentle touch to her shoulder that accompanied it. Chakotay looked at her with concern and Seven couldn't help feeling a little ashamed. Luckily the rest of the table was too distracted to notice her. They were laughing at some anecdote Tom and Harry were elaborating vehemently on.

"You seem a million miles away."

"My apologies, Commander." Seven could tell he wanted to ask her what distracted her, but she turned her attention back to the conversation. Though the confusion in Chakotay's expression let Seven know very well that she wasn't being polite, she wasn't about to admit what had really distracted her. She'd been thinking of the program she planned to run that evening. It wasn't completely finished, but she was already thinking of ways to tweak it.

Breakfast was over soon enough and everyone went their separate ways, Seven avoiding Chakotay's inquiring gaze as he and Harry went to the bridge. Icheb followed Seven to Astrometrics despite her attempts to dissuade him. Tom had the morning off so he followed B'Elanna to engineering.

"Have you noticed anything different with Chakotay?" B'Elanna asked.

Tom shook his head. "No, have you?"

"I'm not sure. He's been…"

"What?"

B'Elanna sighed, unsure how to voice her observations without sounding silly or prying. "Well, he's seemed very concerned with Seven."

Tom shrugged. "So?"

"You don't find it odd that he searched almost the entire ship when she ditched the Doctor, that he organized at least a lesson a week for the Borg children that he taught with her, that he spent half this morning staring at her, or that he's invited her to several meals this month already?"

"She's only agreed to two so far." B'Elanna frowned at him. "Okay, okay, the man's being more conscientious than usual and I can't complain about it. I like Seven. Besides, Seven's social circle isn't very large. For all we know Janeway asked him to get her socializing more."

Placated with that possibility, B'Elanna shrugged and allowed her busy day to wash away her growing suspicions.

XXX

Before she knew it, Seven had passed an hour of her evening and it was time to vacate the holodeck for the next set of people. She shut down the program and allowed herself a smile. It had gone better than she anticipated.

"Hey, Seven." Harry and Tom greeted her as she left the empty holodeck. She gave them a nod and quick greeting, excusing herself to go regenerate.

Tom and Harry glanced at each other as Seven disappeared, similar looks of incredulity gracing their raised brows.

"Was that strange? I can't remember the last time Seven was on the holodeck," said Tom.

Harry nodded. "She thinks it's a frivolous waste of time."

"Maybe the Doctor or Captain Janeway set up more social lessons."

"Wouldn't put it past them," said Harry with a shrug. "She could be doing some experiments too." Tom laughed.

"Yes, that sounds about right. Computer," Tom commanded, "set up Captain Proton program and start last accessed chapter." The computer chimed and the boys entered the transformed room.


End file.
